[ The accident that led to him losing his left arm happened when Gracie was only two years old, and so Aaron has learned to accepting help offered to him, whether he actually wants it or not. There are only so many nights you can fight phantom pain while trying to calm a teething toddler (or struggling to clean up after a diaper disaster – which were prone to happen because tying and securing those god-awful makeshift diapers had already been tricky enough when he’d still had both his hands). And although he wouldn’t trade his time with Gracie for anything in the world, there’s no denying that the past few years have been exceptionally hard for him. ]
Just Gracie and me, yeah. [ He takes a look at the drawing, at them riding their bikes. ] She’s… not my biological daughter, though. Took her in when she was nine or ten months old. [ Not that it actually matters, not to him, since he doubts that he could possibly love any other kid more than he loves her, blood-related or not. She is his daughter, there is no question about it, and he will always be her father. But since he and K have been discussing biological life, it feels kind of important to state it. Although he cannot really pinpoint why.
When K begins to answer his questions, Aaron listens with great interest, though his obvious fascination for K’s abilities or fantastic topics such as space travels and foreign planets fades quickly as the true purpose of K’s programming sinks in. Slave labour? As – what? Backbone of a modern society? He frowns. ]
Obedience. [ He repeats quietly. The word suddenly tastes wrong in his mouth, like a bad joke told with the worst timing, and he shakes his head. Memories of Negan and his Saviours flash up, memories of how helpless he had felt seeing a man like Rick kneel (and having to kneel himself, kneel and watch Abraham and Glenn die), of risking his life to scavenge and collect food for people he despised. ] I’m sorry, I know I don’t know anything about you or about your part of the world, or the society who allows or condones slavery… but, really, to me all that sounds so fundamentally wrong.
[ The lines on his face deepen as he first looks at K’s hands, then up to his face, quite obviously searching for a way to decide what it is he’s actually looking at – a man? A robot? A bioengineered creature somewhere in-between? He’s tempted to reach and touch, see if there is a familiar feeling when touching hands, a form of connection, because to him the skin on the back of K’s hand looks perfectly normal. K looks perfectly normal, like any other guy (well, that’s not a hundred percent true, because most of the guys in Aaron’s reality are neither so naturally (or artificially?) handsome, nor so well-groomed and clean). But he does look like a real human being – and that is so confusing. Wouldn’t it be much easier to let machines do the risky jobs? Screws and wires, not flesh and bones – and K really does look like he’s made of the latter. Curiosity finally wins, ] Would it be okay to touch your hand? I need… I need to understand this, what you mean when you say that you are engineered. To what an extent?
[ A perfectly human-looking android complete with a set of emotions? Sounds a bit like a design chosen by cowards. People who want all the possible benefits without having to deal with a guilty conscience. Just machines, right? ] Obeir - you said that you are not happy about your nickname, right? And you mentioned an emotional range, that you are able to experience emotions? So. How can you stand it, how can you live like that? Have you ever thought about… about quitting? Living a different life?
Aaron is 100% proud papa <3
Just Gracie and me, yeah. [ He takes a look at the drawing, at them riding their bikes. ] She’s… not my biological daughter, though. Took her in when she was nine or ten months old. [ Not that it actually matters, not to him, since he doubts that he could possibly love any other kid more than he loves her, blood-related or not. She is his daughter, there is no question about it, and he will always be her father. But since he and K have been discussing biological life, it feels kind of important to state it. Although he cannot really pinpoint why.
When K begins to answer his questions, Aaron listens with great interest, though his obvious fascination for K’s abilities or fantastic topics such as space travels and foreign planets fades quickly as the true purpose of K’s programming sinks in. Slave labour? As – what? Backbone of a modern society? He frowns. ]
Obedience. [ He repeats quietly. The word suddenly tastes wrong in his mouth, like a bad joke told with the worst timing, and he shakes his head. Memories of Negan and his Saviours flash up, memories of how helpless he had felt seeing a man like Rick kneel (and having to kneel himself, kneel and watch Abraham and Glenn die), of risking his life to scavenge and collect food for people he despised. ] I’m sorry, I know I don’t know anything about you or about your part of the world, or the society who allows or condones slavery… but, really, to me all that sounds so fundamentally wrong.
[ The lines on his face deepen as he first looks at K’s hands, then up to his face, quite obviously searching for a way to decide what it is he’s actually looking at – a man? A robot? A bioengineered creature somewhere in-between? He’s tempted to reach and touch, see if there is a familiar feeling when touching hands, a form of connection, because to him the skin on the back of K’s hand looks perfectly normal. K looks perfectly normal, like any other guy (well, that’s not a hundred percent true, because most of the guys in Aaron’s reality are neither so naturally (or artificially?) handsome, nor so well-groomed and clean). But he does look like a real human being – and that is so confusing. Wouldn’t it be much easier to let machines do the risky jobs? Screws and wires, not flesh and bones – and K really does look like he’s made of the latter. Curiosity finally wins, ] Would it be okay to touch your hand? I need… I need to understand this, what you mean when you say that you are engineered. To what an extent?
[ A perfectly human-looking android complete with a set of emotions? Sounds a bit like a design chosen by cowards. People who want all the possible benefits without having to deal with a guilty conscience. Just machines, right? ] Obeir - you said that you are not happy about your nickname, right? And you mentioned an emotional range, that you are able to experience emotions? So. How can you stand it, how can you live like that? Have you ever thought about… about quitting? Living a different life?